One thing about Theodore Nicholas Oldham, was that he didn’t really have to try all that hard in order to archieve good grades. He was a naturally talented, and witty kid, especially when it came to mathematics and politics. Being the eldest son of Nicholas Oldham, owner of one of London’s most important business, it was only natural for him to be talented with anything regarding finance.

Every year, several top schools from all across England came together to challenge their students to give their best, in order to win competitons of different knowledge areas. Theodore had signed up to represent his school in the mathematics section—and you, had done exactly the same.

Only a few hours passed before you became aquaitanced with the members of Theodore’s team, and soon gained a special disdain towards their posh accents, and polished dress jackets. You had the missfortune of deciding to complain about them while walking down the hallway during the exact same moment Theodore was walking out of the lift; meaning he got to hear the entire conversation.

And as if things could not get any worse, his school ended up winning. The boy’s first reaction was to walk over to you, and make it sure you knew who had the better team. “Second place isn’t too bad you know.” Theodore smirked, leaning against the wall, mimicking your crossed arms. “But I get it, you’re bitter about having lost against—how did you call us?— ‘pretentious little posh arseholes’, isn’t that right?”